


Stupid Ghost Documentaries

by BotchedExperiment



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Emetophilia, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BotchedExperiment/pseuds/BotchedExperiment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to striders4life for the beta read!</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John whimpers and curls up with his back facing you. This wasn’t just a cold like the two of you had thought earlier. Nausea has been torturing him all night, and he’s getting more and more uncomfortable and restless every second and you aren’t even sure what to do. Every time you try to touch him, he shies away, possibly because the illness is making his body too warm and sensitive to touch.

Eventually, at about three in the morning, he sits up and holds his stomach, sitting in front of the waste basket you had placed next to him when the two of you went to bed, about the time he started complaining about his stomach. You stand up to get him a glass of water along with a box of tissues for the runny nose he was trying to hide. When you return, he’s still sitting there with his arms wrapped around his middle.

You sit next to him and rub gentle circles on his back as he waits for the inevitable. John doesn’t resist the touch this time. He only shivers a little at the way your hand feels on his skin.

You hear him swallow hard before he lets out a painful cough, and soon he’s vomiting. His body shudders beneath your hand each time he lurches forward, releasing his stomach’s contents.

It’s fifteen minutes before he finally decides that it’s all over with. You tell him that in a half hour you’re going to give him some water to drink “And you damn well better drink it all, Egbert. “

John gets back in bed, curling into his own body heat and sniffling quietly. He already had a runny nose and there was no way that puking made it any better.

“Dave,” His voice is extremely hoarse and almost painful to listen to, you almost want to tell him not to speak, “Not even water sounds good right now.”

“Yeah well you’re drinking some anyway. Neither of us want me to drag your ass to the hospital for dehydration or some shit.”

He only responds with a small whine before curling up tighter.

Okay, he’s shivering now. What do you do when your boyfriend is shivering? Blankets. Right, more blankets. Where did you put all of the extra blankets? This is when you remember that you lent most of your extra blankets to Jade for her sleepover last weekend. Well okay, but you still go and grab the throw that hangs on the back of the sofa. It isn’t very warm, but you hope that it will help. You place it on top of your sniffly boyfriend and carefully tuck him in.

It’s the blanket that John always ends up cocooning himself in when he doesn’t feel good, so you guess that its right for the current job, but it usually stays in the living room so John can curl up in it and watch TV. You’ll have to remember to bring it back out in the morning so he can curl up in it while you make breakfast.

He doesn’t fall asleep quickly, so instead you have him sit up and drink the water that you brought him. After he finishes it, you grab a tissue and press it to his runny nose. He scowls at you and tries to pull away, but all you say is “Blow.”

“What? No!”

“Egbert, if you’d just blow your snotty ass nose you’d be able to breathe again.”

“This is fucking dumb! I’m not going to-“ You tighten your grip on his nose and smirk as his eyes widen.

“C’mon. Then you can go back to sleep.”

He sighs dramatically and blows into the tissue that you’re holding.

Not two hours later, after you both have fallen asleep, you feel him start to get out of bed. You watch him place his hand on the dresser for extra support as he walks out to the hallway. You’re under the impression that he just has to piss until you hear that familiar painful retching.

You panic and lose your cool a little more than you would like. “John?  _John?!”_ You quickly scramble out of bed and head to the bathroom only to find your boyfriend knelt over the toilet.  He groans softly and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Egbert, there was a fucking wastebasket right there next to you.”

“I was going to get another glass of water, you dork.” Well at least he was thirsty.

At this, you chuckle a little under your breath. It was relieving to hear John being a little more like himself. You don’t know many people who still had a sense of humor when they’re in the process of puking their brains out.

“Wake me up next time you need something, okay? I don’t want you throwin’ up everywhere. We already have the walls painted. Don’t need a second coat of half-digested pizza.”

“Ugh, Dave, please stop.” The grip his right arm has on his stomach tightens when his stomach audibly gurgles.

You kneel down next to him and place your hand on his back like before, “Do you need to throw up again or are you ready to go back to bed?”

“Bed.”

He proves that he is capable of walking on his own, but you’re watching him anyway. Every step he takes as he walks out of the bathroom is shaky, and you would be lying if you said that it doesn’t make you nervous.

When the two of you are back into the hallway, you notice the sunrise.  John doesn’t say anything but you know what he’s thinking by his expression. He always had a thing where he couldn’t go back to sleep once the sun rose.

“How about the couch instead? You can watch TV until you fall back to sleep.”

He nods, letting you know that he’s satisfied with your idea, and you both head to the living room. Mindful of his stomach’s sensitivity, he slowly settles into the cushions of the couch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to striders4life for the beta read!

You go back to the bedroom and find a soft long-sleeved shirt for him to wear. When he slips it on and he’s all comfy, you join him so the two of you are comfortably snuggled together on the couch. He lies still a few minutes after he stops shivering, and then he turns to you.

“Could you turn the TV on? I can’t fall asleep, it usually helps.”

You reach over him and grab the remote before turning the TV on at his request, changing channels until you think you’ve found something halfway decent to watch.

After a little while of watching some cheap sci-fi show, you both end up falling asleep and you don’t wake up for another two hours after that. It’s still too early in the morning for you to be awake, although you’re sure that John, on one of his healthier days, would disagree. Seven in the morning is too damn early and no one can convince you otherwise.

You sit up and slowly crawl out from behind John, careful not to disturb him. By this time, an even cheaper sci-fi show is playing. You sit on the floor, pick up the remote and spend a few minutes surfing channels. You stop at some documentary on ghosts and the paranormal when you hear a quiet hum from behind you.

You turn around and see John rubbing his eyes sleepily as he sits up and relaxes against the back of the couch

“Well good morning.”

“Stop there.”

You raise an eyebrow “What?”

He nods toward the TV.

“You can’t seriously want to watch this. And how long have you been awake anyway?”

“Long enough to see you stop switching channels to watch the Pillow Pets commercial.”

You can’t help it. They look so unbelievably cuddly. Ironically.

“I’m not watching this stupid ghost documentary shit.” You never understood his interest in the paranormal. It has caused several arguments in the past.

“That’s not fair! C’mon, Dave.”

“Alright, fine. I’m gonna get us some breakfast anyway. Enjoy … whatever that shit is.”

Although he nods, it takes him a moment to process the first part of that sentence.

“Uh, Dave, there’s no way I’m eating breakfast right now!”

“Do you feel like you’re in immediate danger of puking everywhere?”

“Well, no, but I’m not hungr-“

“You’ve got to eat. You know food? It’s a thing that keeps your fucking body functioning. Just be glad that you’ve got a fine ass boyfriend to make it for you.”

He is ready to say something else and you’re ready to put up more of an argument, but then you remember that you’re the healthier one at the moment and you can make your boyfriend do whatever the hell you think he should do. Well okay, that isn’t exactly true but it’s an entertaining thought to have.

So what do you do? Just walk off and start getting breakfast, leaving Egbert on the couch to watch his ghost shit. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep, his eyes drooping, and every time they close he just opens them again. You’re not sure if his body will even let him fall asleep again, because John doesn’t usually put up that much of a fight when he’s sleepy (you have many stories to back that up. You’re not sure how someone can fall asleep on a stuffy bus with loud breaks and doors that open every two minutes.)

You place a couple of slices of bread in the toaster before getting out a box of stale cereal. When the toast pops up, you put it on a plate and go to give it to your boyfriend, who is now currently hugging his legs to his chest as he sits on the sofa.

“Here. Food.” You say, placing the plate on the coffee table in front of him.

You then get back up to get yourself a bowl of cereal. You’re really not that hungry, especially for this generic, stale stuff, but you figure that eating is a thing that you should do also.

When you return, John is staring at the toast with extreme disgust. He even ends up ignoring it and going back to watching TV. Well this wouldn’t do.

“You know, I don’t like to brag but I’ve heard that my toast is pretty damn delectable. Maybe you should give it a try.”

He looks at you with a tired half-smile, and you’re pretty sure you heard the tiniest of laughs. His smile disappears and he goes back to looking exhausted and miserable “I told you, I’m not hungry.”

You sigh dramatically “Egbert, could you just eat it?”

Without saying a word, he picks up a slice of toast, takes a small bite, chews, and swallows. To mess with him you start clapping but that only earns you a glare. He takes another bite, and another, and in a half hour both slices are miraculously gone.

You two cuddle on the couch for a while, a show about paranormal investigators starting (seriously, what is this channel?), but then he sits up, and he looks at you almost panicked.

“John?”

“I have to throw up.” He says it as quickly as possible, wrapping one arm around his stomach and clapping his other hand over his mouth.

“Shit, okay.” You run and grab the wastebasket from your bedroom. As you run back to the living room you hear a sound that you hope is not what you think it is.

“Aw, Egbert.”

He holds his stomach tightly as he vomits on the floor in front of him. You run to hand him the wastebasket and start rubbing his back. John places it on his lap and hugs it to his chest in time for him to puke again.

He stops and just tries to catch his breath for a few seconds until he starts to speak.

“It happened really quickly,” John explained in a painfully hoarse voice. “… Sorry. That was, uh, kind of embarrassing.”

You pat his back softly before standing up “Don’t worry about it.”

He’s nervous and fidgety as you clean up. He’s also shivering, and you don’t think that that’s a good sign. That’s when you remember that you left the living room blanket in the bedroom. Damn, why didn’t he say anything?

You finish up and quickly grab John’s sick-blanket from the bed, but you end up bringing back three blankets just in case one isn’t enough.

He watches as you drape the first blanket over him. John still looks guilty as hell but you’ve already spent the last half hour telling him that it wasn’t his fault.

“You didn’t have to go get all of those, Dave, I’m fine.” oh hell no, he’s not going to refuse your help just because he puked a little, that is not happening.

You bite back a smirk “Oh well I’ll just go put these back then.”

“No! Um, keep them here.”

“Thought so.” You say with a chuckle.

You plop down next to him and continue to drape blankets over him. He ends up leaning on you and sharing them so the two of you are snuggled together underneath. His body heat is overwhelmingly warm with the blankets, but you don’t think that it’s anything to worry about. Plus, you two have yet to invest in a thermometer and you’d rather not have to go out right now.

Watching paranormal investigations all day is definitely not what you had planned, however John seems quite content at the moment and that itself keeps you from the mind-numbing boredom that you would be suffering from if you were watch this shit alone.

At one in the afternoon you both decide to skip lunch. You admit that it may not be the best decision as the one who is taking care of him, but you’re not very hungry so why would he be?

You do, however, make soup for dinner, because allowing your patient to skip two meals would be down-right horrible, even if you’re still not hungry yourself.

He’s eating it as slowly as possible, and even you are forcing yourself to take a few bites. You’re starting to think that you should switch to a new soup brand, not that you spend much time thinking about groceries.

You aren’t sure what to think when you wake up randomly in the middle of the night, that is, until you notice that your stomach is feeling jumpy and weird. You soon realize that you’re going to throw up, and you need to get out of there before there’s another mess to clean up. You head to the bathroom and stand over the toilet as you wait for the inevitable when you feel a hand gently gliding across your back.

“Hey, Egbert.” You’re whispering, because opening your mouth too much at the moment might not end well.

Your stomach gets a little more unsettled and you slowly kneel, John moving along with you, just as slowly. You cough and the soup and everything else you’d eaten the day before comes up, or you think that it’s everything until it happens again. The pressure in your throat is overwhelming and you start to panic, trying to bite back the desperate whines that are trying to force their way up along with your dinner.

When it finally ends, your stomach aches. John’s still rubbing your back. You smile at him, or try, since it’s kind of hard to smile when it feels like your guts have been turned inside out.

“You know what?”

“Uh, what, Dave?”

“I think I might’ve caught your stomach bug.”

Trying to be funny is not easy nor is it necessary at the moment, but you get a laugh out of him, it’s a sleepy, half-awake laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

“Yeah, maybe. I’m going to go get the wastebasket so we can go back to bed.”

You raise an eyebrow as he starts to walk out “We gonna have to share?”

“My stomach feels fine right now.” He assures you. “But the rest of me …”

Well now you just can’t help but feel guilty for getting him out of bed when he probably still feels shitty. With the way he’s moving you can imagine that he’s still achy and tired.

“Guess we’re both going to be in bed for a little while, hm?”

He nods “It shouldn’t be so bad.”


End file.
